


Blue on Blue

by Crack_Alchemist



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Class Differences, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Heartache, Het, M/M, Multi, Musicians, Romance, Slash, Yaoi, prohibited love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crack_Alchemist/pseuds/Crack_Alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shining Saotome has a good reason for his rule against romance at the Saotome Master School. However, he knows that some lessons are better learned by example. So, will Haruka and Masato learn or, prodigies that they are, persevere? Primarily Haruka/Masato; other pairings will appear. Rating may changed based on chapter contents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Do I Do?

**Author's Note:**

> You may note that this story has changed. Yes, it's getting a remix. So get ready to ride again. XD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Haruka knew how her birthday was supposed to have started. A breakfast in bed, served on beautiful plates and with enough sweets to give her instant cavities. That had been the plan, made with whispers under several starlit skies. She expected to be awakened to the scent of freshly made sweet-cakes, warm, earthy tea and smiling violet-blue eyes._

 

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Blue On Blue**

**Chapter 1: What Do I Do?**

**Rating PG**

**Soundtrack: Eotteokhajyo (What Do I Do?) by Ji Sun**

 

Birthdays were serious business at the Saotome Agency. The young energy of the brand new idol band – and their composer – reverberated down the hallways and made even the stodgiest old employee more conducive to celebration. The entire year had been spent celebrating birthday after birthday – there were ten people under 20 this year alone – and today they had reached a very special one.

Before this day, the agency had celebrated a whopping eight of those young birthdays, not counting those over 20. Now it was September 15. The day had become an official holiday. All work ceased for the day, which was celebrated with enough cake to choke the sweetest sweet tooth, contraband drinks and more gifts than Haruka had seen in her life.

Haruka knew how her birthday was supposed to have started. A breakfast in bed, served on beautiful plates and with enough sweets to give her instant cavities. That had been the plan, made with whispers under several starlit skies. She expected to be awakened to the scent of freshly made sweet-cakes, warm, earthy tea and smiling violet-blue eyes.

Haruka had expected her eighteenth birthday to be the most exciting birthday ever. Now, as the sun peeked through the sheer curtains of her bedroom window and ran its warm, soft fingers over her brow, reminders came slowly creeping over her skin, causing her to shiver and wish for nothing more than to pull the covers over her head.

It was supposed to have been a wonderful day, a day filled with laughter, joy, and excitement. Now she wished that it could get shoved under the sofas in the practice rooms like all of the stray pencils, guitar picks and saxophone reeds that the cleaner would invariably find.

It was a futile wish, but she clutched it to her chest like a precious thing nonetheless.

Today was the sixth time in as many days that Haruka woke with tears drying on her cheeks. She allowed herself a rare curse as she touched the stiff and scratchy evidence on her face. She yawned, stretched and reluctantly rolled out of her bed, wishing she could just roll over on the floor and stay sleeping until noon. It was a close thing, but she knew if she didn’t move soon, one of the boys (probably Syo-chan, but more likely Ittoki-kun) would knock down the door to drag her to her _other_ birthday breakfast. An early morning kidnapping was not on the top of her list of things to do, so she stood up and hurried into her shower to splash some cold water on herself. The least she could do for her friends was at least to appear to be excited about her special day.

Showered, powdered and dressed in a sober, deep blue skirt and white top, she cracked open her door and peeked down the hall. The coast was clear.

Or so she thought. One, two, three steps down the hallway, and she could feel the breeze of Syo’s arrival behind her. He threw and arm around her shoulders and stopped his forward movement, jerking the both of them to a complete stop.

“Happy Birthday, Nanami!” he called into her ear, his blue eyes twinkling.

Haru found that she was able to laugh and give him a genuine smile. It was hard to stay sad when Syo looked at her that way. She shook her head, allowing him to steer her down the hall toward the practice room where, naturally, the birthday extravaganza was laid out.

As usual the room was spacious and peacefully lit, illuminated only the morning sunshine pouring through the ten floor-to-ceiling windows. Her eyes danced around the room, acknowledging the six other young men scattered around the space; lounging on couches, sitting in window seats, waiting to shower her with gifts.

Distractedly caressing the keys of the grand piano in the only shadowy corner in the room.

She found it surprisingly easy not to pause, not to gasp in a painful breath, not to take a moment to consider that. Acknowledging what she saw, she moved on, allowing Syo to steer her to one of the low tables near the center of the room. 

With couches on either side, the table was laden with a beautiful breakfast feast. Not the one she expected, it was mouth-watering anyway. A bowl of delicately carved fruits, a plate of warm and steaming honey rolls, carafes of coffee and juice, and a centerpiece of sticky sweet pastries, well-known to be her favorite. Her stomach growled appreciatively and she threw a guilty look at the boys seated around the table.

Ren chuckled and scooted over, patting the empty space beside him. “Apparently, your stomach has spoken for you, Lady,” he drawled, giving her his trademark warm smirk. His sleepy eyes took her in from her head to her toes, as he always did, and – as always – Haruka couldn’t help but blush under his regard. To cover the pink in her cheeks and the fluttering in her middle, she looked around at the others, giving each one a small smile. At her arrival, the ones scattered throughout the room moved toward the couches and made themselves as comfortable as they could.

And here was where the day would be different from the last birthday she’d celebrate; no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

As her gaze slid over them all, and as each one gave her their warmest salutations, she tried not to let her gaze pause too long on any of them. That way she wouldn’t be conspicuous when she purposefully allowed her gaze to light on one of them for the time it took her to blink an eye. _How dare he look so rested when she was lucky to have gotten two hours of sleep for the past six nights! She should have been the one to sleep peacefully, conscience clear._ She resolutely ignored that fact that he stopped her heart in her chest like he always did. She disregarded the fact that it was a moment before she could breath again. She discounted the memories that murmured under the surface of her skin, of that day six days ago, when things became… different.

Under other circumstances, her gaze would have lingered, and she would have cherished the warmth of his greeting, the fleeting thrill of a clandestine morning kiss. Just imagining his soft lips moving over hers was like a symphony in its own right, inspiring her and filling her mind with more lyrics than she could scribble down in one day. Or, at least, they _used_ to encourage her. Now, her skin felt a chill from the lack of his touch, and the fine hairs on her arm raised from her lingering guilt.

Blinking fast (because she swore she would not shed _one tear_ on her birthday of all days), she let her glance dance around the periphery of his face. Her gaze settled on the empty spot next to Natsuki, which was quickly filled with Syo’s bouncing body. She resolutely ignored the fact that _he_ had quickly retreated, and moved to stand behind the couch upon which she was seated.

For those who were her friends, she would not let the day be ruined by her sadness, nor would she let _him_ know how much his presence affected her. Besides, she wasn’t even sure he even gave a damn about her feelings at this point and did not want to give him the satisfaction of watching her suffer the consequences of her actions.

“Tch.”

She heard the small sound and looked over at Tokiya, whose mouth was pressed in a thin line, and his expression filled with thunderclouds. Of course, he knew. Ren probably knew as well. She gave the lanky, strawberry-blond another look and noticed him directing his coldest stare toward something over her right shoulder. She wanted to tell them to stop, to leave it alone, but speaking of it would lay the completely painful mess on the table and ruin her party before it even began.

“I see someone remembered my favorite,” she said instead, reaching for the plate of strawberry pastries placed in the position of honor in the middle of the table. She grabbed the top one and took a healthy bite, allowing herself to moan with unbridled delight as the warmth and sweetness taking over her whole mouth.

“Of course we remembered, Haru-chan,” Natsuki told her. “It was hard to keep Syo-chan away from them, but after Ren had threatened to bite his fingers off, he left them alone.”

Haruka laughed and gave Ren a scandalized look. “How could you, Jinguji-san?”

“I had to protect such masterpieces from being ruined before you could enjoy them.”

“But then we’d have to call the group TARISH, ne?” She popped the last bite of the pastry in her mouth and licked the excess crumbs from her thumb. “I can see your fans loving that.”

“Actually, it’ll be more like STAR…” Natsuki thought about how to pronounce the last part of the name without the S that stood for Syo. “…eh? Or ee. Or--,”

“Really, Shinoymia-san, can we get on with things so Haru-chan can get to her presents?” Tokiya said, stopping Natsuki before he could get on a roll.

“Oh, I can wait until you’ve finished,” Haru offered, snagging another pastry from the plate. Tomo-chan would have called her out for stuffing her face so early in the morning, but it was her birthday, she was eighteen years old, these pastries were utterly delicious and she could do whatever she wanted.

Well, most of what she wanted. What she really wanted to do for her birthday was lost to her and that stung her deeply again. Especially with the feeling of _him_ standing right behind her, his hand on the back of the couch, the smell of his light cologne permeating all of her senses.

 _He baked these,_ she suddenly thought.

“Oh, he can shut up,” Ittoki-kun said, just as Syo was cramming a pastry in his mouth, trying to swallow the thing in one bite. It was the first time he’d spoken that morning, and she knew it was no coincidence that he chose that moment to remind her of his sunshine presence. “Come on, now, Haru-chan, hurry up, we want to see you open your presents already!”

She gave him her brightest smile. Otoya had always been her anchor, the one who always kept her from losing herself during stressful moments. He’d been there for her from her first day at Saotome Academy, had supported her throughout every trial she’d suffered there. He became the only one she told all of her secrets to and the only one she could trust to keep her emotions on an even keel. He was the one she’d run to on that ugly night when all she wanted to do was scream and scratch and fight for what was hers. She glanced at him in mute thanks and moved toward the chair beside the gift table.

Despite the fact that each box on the gift table was relatively small and elegantly wrapped, she knew the extravagance of each one was only topped by the next. The giver was identified by the color of satin ribbon that wrapped each one. With that in mind, she reached over one placed directly in front of her and picked up the rectangular box covered in red and tied with a purple satin ribbon _behind_ it.

It was from Tokyia. He gave her a beautiful jewelry box, the dark, polished wood embellished with tiny, bright crystals, and lined with rich, red velvet. She thanked him with a quizzical look because he had to know she had very little jewelry to put inside of the thing. He held a smile with his teeth and nodded toward her.

Syo, who, of course, couldn’t wait, handed her a slim, black box, tied with a pale pink ribbon and the competition to astound Haruka began in earnest.

When she opened the box, she caught her breath at the beautiful bracelet lying on the white satin. It was silver and set with seven fat, gorgeous, sparkling aquamarines, the same color as Syo’s twinkling gaze. “Because nothing else goes perfectly with your eyes,” he told her earnestly, and the first of many blushes crossed her cheeks.

After that, she accepted the set of pair of tiny stylish earrings, dripping with exotic malachite and precious gold. That had come from Cecil, who just gave her a smile and a little bow. Next was the bracelet that was the fraternal twin to Syo’s, from Natsuki, in silver and bright emeralds. Haruka felt her eyes growing moist as she took in the beautiful sparkle in the dark green that was only matched by the unbelievable smile in Natsuki’s eyes. Then she laughed, because beneath the bracelet was a tiny little charm, meant to go into her phone’s earplug, of lovely green crystals and a small little Piyo-chan spinning on its end.

“I told you she’d love Piyo-chan!” Natsuki exclaimed, clapping his hands and giving Syo an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “She knows how much happiness Piyo-chan can bring!”

“She knows you’re crazy, that’s what she knows,” Syo muttered, even as he gave his bandmate and roommate a twisted smile.

A ring was Otoya’s gift to her. A simple silver band etched in delicate filigree, just big enough for her pinky finger. A real ring of friendship from a true friend. She blinked furiously and reached out to give him a hug.

As he pulled her close, he whispered in her ear, “It’s almost over. You’ve got this, sweetheart,” before breaking the embrace.

There were two boxes left on the table. One was a cube about the size of a salad plate, and the other a flat, rectangle box that fit in the palm of her hand. She hovered over the two boxes, wondering which one she should take first. As her fingers skated over the blue satin ribbon on the cube – she knew, she just _knew_ – so she moved past it and took the flat rectangle with the orange ribbon.

All she could do when she opened the box was gape in unabashed amazement. A beautiful citrine, the size of her eye, hung suspended from delicate silver braid embellished with tiny diamonds clusters placed about every other inch of the chain. It, by far, had to be the most unbelievable thing she’d seen.

Ren moved to take the box from her and unhook the clasp. “The citrine matches the sparkle in your eyes when you are inspired, and I couldn’t find anything else that would compare to the beauty of your soul other than diamonds,” he murmured. As he spoke, he moved behind her and draped the chain around her neck and fastened it with gentle fingers. When he was done, he laid his warm hands on her shoulders. Haruka felt the soothing energy moving through his fingers into her as she considered the last gift on the table.

Haruka almost lost it then, but a great deal of blinking and smiling held her just on the edge of blubbering like a fool. She placed her hand over one of Ren’s before he withdrew and thanked him softly.

Then there was only one gift left. Still pleasantly stunned by the dazzling array of precious stones she was been given (which made Tokiya’s gift logical); she managed to pick up the box without her hands shaking too much. She placed the heavy, beautiful box in her lap, toying with the blue satin ribbon for a moment. She looked up into the faces of her idols – her friends – and smiled gently. “I don’t know how to thank you so much for always making my birthday special,” she began. She was stalling.

They knew it.

“You deserve it,” Otoya said, waving at the box in her lap. “Go on, open it. It’s that last one and then we can let you go spend a few minutes basking in all of that sparkle!”

She knew what he meant by that. After this gift, she could retreat to gather her wits about her and return to the rest of the day’s celebrations. Now her hands shook slightly as she pulled the ribbon loose. It fell from the box with a silent whisper, down, draping across her lap as she pulled the top off the box. 

She wondered when he’d purchased it; if it had been before or… after.

She lifted the top of the box and looked inside. And was stupefied. All she could do for a while was stare into the box at what was laying in the middle of the crushed blue velvet lining. Her heart began to race in her chest, so much that she was sure they all could see it trying to leap out of her chest. Her hands continued to tremble and she reached in and lifted the beautiful, crystal sculpture from its soft nest.

She saw the miniature cylinder, the comb, the coils inside the music box before her brain actually registered that it was in the shape a grand piano, exactly like the one in the corner. It was perfectly sculpted and shimmering, reflecting and refracting the sunlight from the window. She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate as she lifted the top and the music gently poured out, like a sweet songbird on the wing.

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star…_

She shut the top to silence the music and took a deep breath. She knew would be the most precious gift she’d been given, even above the diamonds in Ren’s necklace. She blinked once, twice, praying that her expression stayed as neutral as possible given the circumstances. Steeling herself, turned and raised her eyes to the one who’d gifted her with this thing. He, of course, kept his expression still, but she could see something in the dark blue in his eye as she opened her mouth. It was the same thing she’d seen six days and nights ago, and it nearly struck her dumb as it had then, almost kept her from saying what she knew she had to say. 

She could sense the others, those who knew and those who could only guess, holding their breath to see what she would say to the one who had broken the boys’ pact and had broken her heart.

“Thank you, Hijirikawa-san,” she said softly. “It is beautiful. I will treasure it.”

“That makes me very glad…Haruka,” he answered, the richness of his voice vibrating through to her soul. She expected him to call her _Nanami_ , she expected him to hide behind his safe and practical formality. But, no, he had to call her by her given name, owning it as he always had. It wasn’t fair that he could make a simple, everyday name sound like he made it sound.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She tried, she’d really done her best, but she just couldn’t sit there and pretend that her heart was light and she was happy.

_Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are?_

Muttering a swift apology to the others in the room, she stood, clutching the piano in her hands, ignoring the box as it bounced onto the floor and fled the room.  She hoped and prayed that none of them followed her, because she wasn’t sure she could say anything remotely intelligible to anyone for the next few hours.

She reached the sanctuary of her room, slammed the door, collapsed across her bed, cradling the crystal music box in her hands, and felt her coverlet grow damp with even more of her tears.

 _Why?_ She asked again for the thousandth time in as many minutes. _Why did it have to happen like that? What had she done? Could she have stopped him? Why, had he allowed it when he knew--,_

Shock touched her mind and she gasped, facing the thing she’d been avoiding since the week previous. Why had he done it when he knew she would have to continue working for them? _Could she even work for them again, knowing she had to look at him, talk to him, write music for him, and watch him sing? Did she have that much strength inside of her?_

Now she understood why romance was forbidden at the Agency.

Her phone went off, startling her. She sat up, still holding the music box, and picked it up, noticing the fact that she had a brand new text message. Almost involuntarily, she hit the button, though something inside of her was trying to tell her not to.

_It is really hard to live in this world without you. That is why I blame myself for still breathing._

She hit the home button, turning her screen to normal.

Her heart twisted; she pushed the pain down. No more; at least, not today.

She even understood why Shining Saotome allowed all of it to happen, because she knew he had to know about it. He knew exactly how the situation would resolve itself. _He_ knew the lesson would be learned, far more effectively than he could ever teach her directly.

She lay quiescent on her stomach, staring at the crystal music box. Her finger tripped the box open again and the tune began once more: _Twinkle, twinkle, little star; how I wonder what you are?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transformative is what fanfiction is. So I decided to re-vamp this story; after a bit more time in the fandom, I learned a few new things. I hope you enjoy the remix.


	2. You Can Call Me Un-Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Masato has a lot of explaining to do. Can he summon the strength to tell his bandmates and senpai that he is utterly hopeless when it comes to romance?

 

]o[   ]o[   ]o[

 

**Blue on Blue**

**Chapter Two: You Can Call Me Un-Perfect**

**Rating: PG**

**Soundtrack: Selfish - Nsync**

Masato was tucking his phone back into his pocket when he felt the stares of six pairs of eyes on him. He looked up and noted that none of the gazes was in any remote way of a friendly nature. Even Aijima looked disappointed. Strangely, that look bothered him more than the others.

“I don’t wish to talk about it,” he said peremptorily. He was already humiliated that he couldn’t restrain himself from trying to talk to her; he didn’t want to have to explain anything to the others.

“Oh, you’re gonna talk about it,” Kurusu growled, pushing up his sleeves. “Or I’m going to rearrange your teeth so you can’t talk about anything.”

_Well, this was an unfortunate turn of events._ “You can try,” Masato said before he could bite back his retort. The last thing he needed was to alienate his bandmates. That would just complete his hopelessness. With that, he might as well crawl on his knees back to his father and submit.

“Brave words, considering the fact that the Little Lamb is crying in her room because of you,” Jinguji said smoothly. “You think we’re going to let that slide?”

“It’s none of your business, Jinguji.”

“Everything about Haruka is our business, Hijirikawa. Didn’t I tell you not to mess this up?”

“I didn’t--,”

“Then why is she an emotional mess?” Ichinose spat. At that, Masato allowed himself a flinch.

“It is a personal matter,” Masato tried, though he knew inside that his explanation was too weak to give it speech.

“You know what’s going to be a personal matter?” Kurusu said, as he began advancing on Masato. “The condition of your face when I’m done.”

“Well, you don’t really want to mark up his face,” Ittoki suddenly said, “Shining-sama will kill you.”

“There are other things I can mark,” Syo offered.

_“_ What _is going on here?”_

The members of STARISH froze and turned in unison from their target. Kurusu was the first to respond to Camus’ question, growling as he turned back to Masato, who had his back pressed against the door and a rigid glare in his eyes.

“I’m trying to decide whether it would be easier to break Hijirikawa’s teeth or snap his neck for him.” He cracked his knuckles, looking as if he would be happy to do either.

Masato’s eyes narrowed slightly, almost daring him.

“Why would you injure Hijirikawa?” Mikase Ai asked, tilting his head.

Wincing slightly, Shinomiya looked over at his senpai. “He made Haru-chan cry.”

“Whaaat?”

Everyone stopped in their tracks and watched as, for the first time since they’d met him, Kotobuki-senpai actually frowned. Displeasure touched every part of his expression, from the thunderclouds in his gray eyes to his drawn, pinched lips. “ _You_ made Haruka cry?” he asked slowly moving forward to stare at Masato. “Oh, Ma-chan, that is _not_ a good thing.” Even though he was shorter than Masato, the younger man was eerily intimidated.

As much as he would prefer leaving the conversation a dead thing on the ground, Masato was not backing down, despite the odds quickly stacking against him. “None of you know anything about it,” he grated out, his fists clenched at his sides. He kept his expression utterly closed.

“Humph,” Otoya said, expressionlessly. Masato looked away from him. 

“None of this is making sense to me,” Mikaze, the cold voice of reason, cut through the tension in a way only he could. “Can someone explain?”

Kurusu backed away from Masato, allowing the other man to move from the door and toward the sofas.

“While _you_ are doing that,” and he gave Masato a meaningful look, “I am going to check on Haruka,” Ittoki said, puhing through them and whipping the door open.

“Leave it alone, Itokki,” Masato said.

“I can’t,” Ittoki answered, slamming the door behind him.

Once he was gone, the others turned their attention back to Masato. “So?” Mikaze asked again. “Why is Haruka unhappy? What did you do?”

Masato cleared his throat and sat up straight, folding his hands in his lap. He would give them the bare facts, leaving the underlying details close to his chest. “The… relationship we had has unfortunately come to an end.”

Silence fell over the group.

“She is naturally upset.”

While some looked stunned and shocked at the word _relationship,_ and others looked as if they could happily hang Masato out of a moving jet plane without a parachute _,_ Mikaze processed the information. “You were closer to Nanami than the others, correct?” At Masato’s stiff nod. “And now that is not so?” Masato nodded again. “Why?”

“It is a… private concern.”

“Tch,” Tokiya spat. “It isn’t a private matter when it affects Haruka so thoroughly that she cannot sit through her own birthday breakfast,” he informed his bandmate. 

“He’s right,” Kurosaki cut in, crossing his arms. “If Haruka cannot function because her emotions are unstable, we will all suffer for it.”

Camus curled his lip. “This is why there is a prohibition against personal relationships within the agency. Idiots.”

Masato looked at his tightly clutched hands, trying unsuccessfully to hide the flush in his cheeks. They were all right.

“You lost the privilege of privacy,” Kotobuki-senpai cut in, “when you treated her so heartlessly.”

Masato’s head whipped up, glaring at the older man. He could feel and see his band mates’ surprise at his expression; none of them had ever seen such a profound anger in the young man’s eyes before. Every part of him screamed outraged denial.

Mikaze Ai, perceptive as ever, too sensed the change and raised a hand, calling for attention. “I don’t believe things are quite as obvious as they seem,” he said quietly.

“No,” Jinguji cut in, giving his roommate a long look. “They’re not.” He leaned forward, trying to pin Masato with his eyes. “Private matter? When you say it like that, you usually mean it’s a _Hijirikawa_ matter.”

“Leave it, Jinguji,” Masato warned through slightly clenched teeth.

“Is it your family?”

“I said leave it!”

The redhead shrugged and leaned back. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Hijirikawa,” he smirked. “The lady’s feelings are very important to me, and if _your_ family had anything to do with her upset, I’m not going to sit by and let it happen.”

Masato fought with himself for an eternity, and then looked away. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“So you left her because your family had objections?” Kurosaki asked. “ _Coward_.”

]o[

“ _What_?” Tomochika gaped at Otoya in the middle of the hallway. She was on her way to join them for Haruka’s birthday when Otoya stopped her, shaking his head and explaining the bare bones of the situation. “ _She_ dumped _him_?”

Otoya shrugged. “I know. It’s insane. I’m going to see if I can talk some sense into her.”

“I’m going with you,” Tomo turned and allowed Otoya take her arm as they sought out Haruka in her room. “This is unbelievable. Why would she do such a stupid thing? Do you even know how much Haruka is in love with Hijirikawa?”

Otoya threw Tomo a look. “Apparently _you_ do,” he muttered with a small smile. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me until now that she was idiotic?”

“Touché, Tomo-chan.”

“I got your touché, honey. We certainly have to coordinate better than this if we’re going to do this busybody thing properly.” She waved her hand. “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Ah, Tomo-chan…”

They found Haruka drowsing on her stomach across her bed, the crystal piano set beside her head. Tomo sat beside her, and Otoya knelt on the floor near her head. They both took in her puffy face, the hitch in her breath and the fact that her hand was still touching Masato gift. Tomo gasped quietly and shook her by her shoulder gently, trying to wake her.

“Mmmm…” Haruka’s eyes flickered open, still slightly swollen and red from her tears. “Tomo-ch-chan?” she husked, sitting up.

“I heard, Haru-chan,” Tomo said, rubbing her friend’s back gently. “I’m so sorry…”

“Nanami, you can’t let this happen,” Otoya jumped right in feet first. “Masa-kun could care less about what his father thinks! Didn’t he tell you that?”

Haruka put her fingers to his lips. “I don’t believe him,” she said.

“Has he ever lied to you?” Otoya asked. He watched that argument die in Haruka’s eyes.

“I can’t let him do that, Ittoki-kun,” she said. “He can’t sacrifice everything… for me.” The tears were rushing to her eyes again and Tomochika gave Otoya a look that pled with him to _shut up_.

Otoya shook his head. “It should be _his_ choice how he deals with his family. I know he cares deeply for you. He thinks he hides it so well, but I can tell.”

“He’s not thinking straight,” Haru said as tears flooded her cheeks. “And if he continues in this way, his father will disown him. He’ll be left with nothing.” She looked at Tomochika. “You understand why I can’t let him do that, right?”

]o[

 

“I don’t believe you,” Ichinose said after Shinomiya and Kurusu managed to wrestle Masato away from Kurosaki before he could throw a punch. “Seems like a convenient excuse to me.”

“I believe him,” Aijima said. “He _would not_ hurt Haruka like that.”

Masato blinked in disbelief at the prince. How did he do that?

“So, _she_ ended the relationship,” Mikaze said matter-of-factly, “because your father would not approve.”

“His father would approve _no one_ not chosen by himself,” Jinguji grumbled. “That man is as cold as a glacier and as hard headed as a marble statue. It makes him an admirable businessman but a terrible father.”

“I told her that it didn’t matter,” Masato said quietly, a flat layer of bleakness coloring his voice. “She wouldn’t listen.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “My parents know nothing about her. Nor does my father’s opinion in this matter signify.”

“Haru-chan is more stubborn than we give her credit for,” Shinomiya observed. 

“Once she gets something in her mind, not much can change it,” Kurusu added.

“You’ll have to show her in a way that she can’t ignore,” Aijima commented thoughtfully.

“More important is,” Camus cut in, “why did Saotome allow this to happen? He has strict rules against romance in the agency. One word from him and this would have ended before it even started.”

That reminder made Masato want to punch a wall. _If it is such a crime, then punish me,_ he thought. He was so close to not caring it was alarming.

Camus gave Masato a censorious look. “She would not have become so… emotionally invested.”

Masato resented that. “As if I am not… emotionally invested?” he demanded.

“Or physically invested ne?” Kotobuki-senpai said with a twist of his lips, obviously fishing for more information. The anger left his eyes, to be replaced by an oddly calculating look.

The silence in the room was complete, and Masato felt unease trip down his spine as everyone turned and looked at him in unison. Masato leaned back, retreating from the mass glare. “Ph-physically?” he sputtered. “That’s not—I mean--,”

“Hmm,” Kotobuki lowered his eyes and tapped his fingers on his knees. “So it hasn’t gone that far yet?”

“ _Absolutely not!_ ” Masato practically shouted, his deep voice bouncing off all four walls. “I would _never_ compromise Nanami in such a dishonorable way! That you would even consider--,”

Jinguji chuckled. “Now, _that’s_ the Hijirikawa I wanted to see,” he said. He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “The pathetic shadow look does not suit you at all.” He gave his friend an inquisitive look. “So. This heartache is not your idea. Are you ready to fix it?”

Masato frowned. “How will I do that? She has made her feelings perfectly clear.”

“The girl _can_ be an obstinate little thing,” Kurosaki grunted.

Mikaze said quietly. “It is obvious that her feelings are at odds with her actions. You need to figure out a way to make them coincide.”

He’d tried everything. Haruka managed to avoid anything other than strict business at every juncture. “Again, how do I do that?” Masato moved toward a window. “She won’t speak to me about this.”

He gave them (could he really call them his friends?) an inquisitive look. He was at a loss; if they could come up with a solution, he would consider it.

It was all he could do at this point. He hadn’t realized that, once he let his feelings for her out of their self-imposed cage, that it would be so painful to put them back.

He’d spent the first night in a soft haze; disbelief and denial clouding everything he did. Sleep had been elusive as he tried to think of some way to convince her to change her mind. The next three days were recording days; he had no time to consider his feelings. After that, every attempt was in vain. He could see the pain in her eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from _trying._

The last text, just a few moments previous, had been the last thing he could think of.

“You need to supply her with the data that is missing from her mental equation,” Mikaze said suddenly, as if it should have been obvious to anyone.

Of course, it should have been obvious, Masato thought. If he’d been thinking straight, he would have found it obvious.

Haruka didn’t know the whole story.

“Data, hmmm?” Jinguji said. “That gives me an idea.”

Masato did not like the sound of that. He recalled that, as children, when Ren said he had an idea, it never ended well. He had no indication that this time would be any different.

He realized then that he was completely out of his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure by now, you've noticed that I've scrapped the original of this. I've spent more time in the utapri trashcan, so I think I can get the characters more depth. Poor Masato, though! I think I've just thrown him into something I don't think he can handle. Hopefully, his friends can help.
> 
> And, god help me, I went back into my way-back machine for the song inspiration for this. This is my NUMBER ONE favorite song by my NUMBER ONE favorite boyband (well, real life boyband anyway). If you get a chance, look it up. You'll melt.


	3. Every Second's Like Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a million reasons she should give him up...
> 
> Haruka thought she could get away with convincing herself it was better this way. Then Shining decides that he has a new assignment for her -- and Masato -- that just happens to keep them only a measure away from each other. Then Masato decides to speak up for himself and Haruka realizes how much torture this is going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO SORRY for the delay in posting. A little bit of writers' block and a whole lot of NaNoWriMo and you got me being a terrible author.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Blue on Blue**

**Chapter Three: Every Second’s Like Torture**

**Rating T**

**Soundtrack: The Heart Wants What it Wants, Selena Gomez**

Haruka moved up the hall, hurrying to her meeting with Shining Saotome. She’d already seen the others and knew that they had their next idol assignments. There were more modeling assignments for Ren, Natsuki, and of all people, Cecil. Haru remembered his dumbstruck face as he told them that certain people enjoyed the smart phone commercial so much, they wanted more of him. 

Syo actually had to choose between modeling (for the same reason as Cecil) and another appearance in the Prince of Fighting. Haruka didn’t have to ask which one he chose. The last time she saw him, he was in the yard practicing his flips and climbing halfway up the walls. _Parkour_ , he called it, and it made good use of his small size and compact body. She only hoped that he didn’t break his blond neck. 

Ittoki-kun and Ichinose-san were back on the variety show circuit for the next few months, something they both enjoyed. Otoya simply because he liked making people smile and Tokiya… well, Tokiya could never let his HAYATO persona go, and these shows were a perfect way for him to channel that unique and precious personality.

_If only things had gone a little differently…_

No, that would have never worked. Haruka shook her mind clear of that tempting thought. Tokiya was too much like a thunderstorm, a tempest of storms that surrounded his vulnerable center. It took everything she had for Haruka to get through the whirlwind of ice and thunder; she knew she wouldn’t want to deal with that day in and day out. No, she was all for peace and stability. Quiet tradition.

Finally, Haruka braced herself for whatever insanity Shining-sama had planned, and, armed with a pencil and her little notebook, she opened the doors to the man’s office. “Good afternoon --,” she started, and then halted just inside the door, all the words leaving her vocal chords at once and all of her insides dropping down somewhere near her feet.

Masato turned his head and looked at her through the fall of his hair, his face as pale as hers must have been. Shock sparked through his eyes before he straightened and turned back to Saotome’s desk.

“Missss Nanami…” Saotome gestured for her to come forward. She did so cautiously. Why was Masato here? Had he called them here for another reason? _Oh, dear…_

Was it possible that Shining-sama had found out about them… or what _used_ to be them?

“Your assignment this time is going to be one you are very familiar with, but this time it carries some prrrestige…” Saotome started, in his habitually hyperbolic style. Haruka counted herself lucky that she didn’t have to watch him cascade down from the ceiling this time. “Misster Hijirikawa has been asked by a noteworthy playwright to perform in another historical musical—this time on stage.” The man moved from behind his desk faster than his bulk should allow, leaning forward, pointing a finger in her face. “Various composers will be writing music for the production… and YOU have been chosen to write the finale song.”

Haruka started a little at the finger sitting a millimeter from her face, and managed to stammer out, “Um...” She should be used to this man’s insanity by now, but he never did anything one expected. “Ah…”

She looked out of the corner of her eye at Masato, who stood, straight and still as he always did, his head slightly bent. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she could guess that his eyes were facing straight forward. Other than acknowledging her entrance, he said nothing else even to indicate that he was aware of her presence.

Saotome split a look between them. “Do you not think you can do it, Misss Nanami?”

She started. “Oh! No, I can do it, Shining-sama.” She clutched her notebook tighter. _She would do it if it killed her dead at her piano bench._

“Good.” Reaching behind his back, he produced two perfect-bound scripts – from where was anyone else’s guess – she didn’t want to imagine. “HERE is the script. I suggest you read it in its entirety, Miss Nanami. Your song will need to gather EVERY BIT OF emotion into it, so that you will have the audience FAINTING in their seats!”

“Yes, S--,”

“This is going to be a fabulous production!” Saotome ran right over what Haruka had been about to say, jumping on top of his desk. He did a little spin. Haruka swore that men with nets were going to come one day and scoop this man up and into a cozy, padded little room.

“This is a story of LOVE,” he bent down and shoved his face into Masato’s personal space. “FORBIDDEN love…” He tilted his head, turning his attention to Haruka again. “The young samurai has fallen in love with his lord’s youngest daughter, and must prove his worth to her father before he can ask for her hand.”

Haruka willed her expression to stay still. She was a professional; she would not react to the interesting coincidence this assignment presented.

“Upon second though, perhaps this assignment is too complicated for you,” Saotome said, tapping his chin. “You have had no EXPERIENCE with such things as FORBIDDEN love, have you?”

“Ah, no!” Haruka squeaked. “I mean, while I have n-no knowledge of such th-things, I’m sure I can draw s-something from the script to help.”

Yes, she heard the little snort come from Masato, but when she and Saotome looked, the young man was a cool and collected as a sand garden.

“Good!” A loud, ringing clap vibrated her eardrums. “I would hate to disappoint the playwright. He is looking for a song full of WRENCHING emotion, of DESPERATION, of _FEELING_ for his finale.” He hopped down from the desk and spread his arms wide. “It must be the PENULTIMATE song, the one that sums up the young warrior’s feelings, the song that will make his lord change his mind.”

He pointed to Haruka. “I KNOW you can produce a song that will have the audience WEEPING in the aisles.” He swung his finger toward Masato, who jumped when the finger ended up almost touching his nose. “And I KNOW that you will have the people SWOONING with your SOULFUL voice, and vivid PERFORMance!”

With that, just like that, he spun and returned to his desk, composed and unruffled. Haruka’s mind spun counter-clockwise, trying to take everything in. To sum up, Shining Saotome trapped her into working closely with Masato Hijirikawa, for however long she had to, charging her to write a desperate, wrenching, and obviously romantic love song. Well, it wasn’t unlike any other assignment, but still.

_Oh, dear._

“I will endeavor to do my best, Shining-sama,” Masato said softly. _If his voice still didn’t make the hairs on the back of Haruka’s neck stand at attention..._ It almost hurt, somewhere in the area of the center of her chest. There was no doubt that she heard the hundred things swirling beneath that short sentence. There was a tiny tug of guilt _right there,_ one she banished with a tiny shake of her head.

_It was best this way,_ she told herself.

“As will I,” she answered, wondering if her voice carried the same things.

“GOOD!” Saotome spun his chair to face the window, effectively dismissing them. 

Haruka kept her gaze in front of her as she made her way to the door. Of course, Masato opened the door and she moved through with, coming within a whispers distance from him. He smelled of freshly scrubbed skin, and the scent caused another tug deep in the pit of her stomach.

Before she could make good her escape (because right now she couldn’t afford a dignified retreat, no this would be a mad retreat into neutral territory), Masato reached out and touched her arm. The touch was light and gentle and it froze her, stopped her in her tracks so fast that she jerked. The script fell to the floor with a soft slap. Cursing in her mind (because she would never say something so filthy in the open air), she stooped to pick it up.

Again, their hands brushed together. And there it was; just like the first time. She’d been avoiding this with everything she had. That warmth, rippling through her from her head to settle somewhere deep in her midsection, to blossom, she knew from her cheeks. That _pull_ , like a bowstring wound too tight, making her lean just a fraction closer to him. She heard his swift intake of breath and knew, _just knew_ he had felt it too. 

_It hurt._

She stood, wiping her sweaty palms down her skirts. _I am a professional,_ she told herself. _He is just my lyricist; I am just his composer._

She had as much luck convincing herself as an ice cube had of surviving in hell.

“H-Haruka,” he started, not his usual poised self. No, his voice had to have that trembling underneath, like an uncertain arpeggio in a depressing song. “I feel that we need to talk.”

She hugged her notebook and script to her chest. “Is it about the musical?” she said, trying to sound cool, hoping he did not note the trembling just under the surface of her own voice, a painful descant to his own.

“Haruka, if you would just let me--,”

She held up her hand. “No, M-Hijirikawa,” she said, seeking the safety of his family name. If she let him continue, she would have to listen, and probably cave under his words and they would be back where they started. In a relationship that had no hope of going anywhere. “I’ve already made my decision,” she said. “I will _not_ jeopardize your relationship with your family.” She chanced a glance up and took in the dark blue-violet eyes, saw the urgency in them, and looked away. “Your-your family is everything to you,” she whispered. “I know that. _You_ know that.”

“You don’t—it isn’t--,” he stumbled to a halt, looking at the ground, helplessly frustrated, his fist clenched at his sides.

She stood, in shock for a microsecond. _Masato was at a loss for words._ No matter the fact that he could pull blissful lyrics out of the clear blue sky, when it came to real things, like _these_ things, he was bereft of one coherent word. She could see his mind scattering behind blue eyes, seeking the right words to give her.

“This is not fair, Haruka,” he finally declared. “You have had your say, but I have not.”

Well, he’d found some very effective words to hand her. Haruka suddenly found the pattern in the floor very interesting. He was right, he was _absolutely right_ , and she should have been ashamed of herself.

But honestly? She didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She _knew_ what he had to say would involve defying his father in some way, shape or form.

He would say that it didn’t matter.

He would say that his father had no control over his personal life.

He would say that he would do anything for her.

She couldn’t let him go there, because she knew he would be lying. Family and tradition was Masato’s solid foundation. The Hijirikawas were a small, but closely bonded family from everything she could see. To fracture that bond – with his mother and sister, if not with his father – would destroy Masato’s sense of stability.

It would change him. It might ruin him. 

She knew that if she let him talk right then, she would agree to whatever he said. She knew that later he would come to resent her for taking him away from his mother and sister and disrupting his peaceful little world.

_She did not want to experience that pain_. It was in her power to keep that type of pain from touching him – or touching her, if she was honest with herself. She could control this. She just needed a little time to build those walls a bit higher.

He would thank her later.

Yes, she was doing it for him, she told herself. She was doing it for _his_ peace of mind as well as her own.

_There's million reasons that I should give you up, Masato,_ she thought.

“I want to have a chance to speak my piece,” Masato insisted, his hand curling around her upper arm. It was a soft, but insistent touch, and of course, she felt it all the way down to the soles of her patent-leather shoes.

_All he’d ever done was kiss her. Three times. Twice on the lips._

“It is not fair that you make this decision without hearing my side and you know it, Haruka. You know that I--,”

“Alright,” she whispered, cutting through the fog that was building around her common sense. She cleared her throat and looked up at him. “We will do this assignment, and _then_ we will talk,” she said. “I will not have… this… interfering with the success of our project.” She caught his gaze and held it. “Will that suit you?” She willed her face into a sternness she did not feel.

Masato blinked twice, and slowly removed his hand. Stepping back two steps, he gave her a little half-bow. “Fine.” He said formally, before turning on his heel and walking away from her. She watched him leave, noting that his hands had curled into fists again and his step just a little too sharp and precise.

She leaned against the wall and sighed. She reminded herself again that she was a professional and she would behave in a professional matter, and she wouldn’t let his voice or his touch or his look sway her from the course of successful completion of the assignment.

No, she wouldn’t.

]o[

“Are you really going to make them work together?” Ringo asked. “You _know_ what they are going through.”

Shining steepled his fingers together in front of him. “I foresee that they will make good use of all of that… pent up… emotion to complete this assignment.”

Ringo sighed, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “You know this is cruel, Shiny. They are trying to be good.” He leaned over the desk. “She was the one who broke it off.”

“Yes, but it was not _his_ wish.”

“Of course it wasn’t his wish! The boy is hopelessly in love with her! You can see his brain passing right through his ears every time he’s within shouting distance of the girl! And she with him, now that I think about it.” Ringo shook herself and returned to the subject. “So you’re just going to _use_ them and their emotions for this assignment?” Ringo was shocked. “To get more prestige for the agency?”

“Not really.” Saotome leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “Of course, prestige is always a good thing, and that will be an extra bonus. Nevertheless, I want to see something else. I want to see if our precious idols have what it takes to wade through such mature waters and come out alive and in one piece.” He waved a hand in the air. “This is a modern fairytale, Ringo. Will there be a happy ending? Will it bring them closer, or drive them apart? Will it ruin the dynamic of STARISH, or will it solidify their bond? Aren’t you curious?”

“But… what _if_ they get back together? Yes, we could all breathe a sigh of relief, but you know the rules; you made the rules! You’ll have to fire them both!”

Saotome’s lips twisted faintly.

Ringo’s sky blue eyes widened. He stammered, “Won’t you?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in the former idol’s eyes.

“Shining Saotome, what are you planning?”

“Where there is a rule, there is a loophole. Let’s see if they can find it.”

 

 


	4. Without the Rhythm of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A step forward for Masato. Ren and Ranmaru manage to bulldoze over his usual reticence and he tells them the whole sordid tale of his family controversy and why Haruka actually has very little to do with it.
> 
> Of course, convincing Haruka of this little fact is the issue at hand, and the three roommates begin to plan the next course of action. Masato just hopes he won't regret asking his childhood partners-in-crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot, I'm on a roll! Hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do, don't be afraid to hit that kudos button or skip over to my tumblr (crackalchemist.tumblr.com) and let me know what you think.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

 

**Blue on Blue**

**Chapter Four: Without the Rhythm of My Heart**

**Rating: T +**

**Soundtrack: Breathe Again, Toni Braxton**

The sensation of lightning along his skin was unescapable. The feeling of breathlessness surrounded him all the way back to his room, script pinned under his arm, hands clenched into fists. He rode the feeling, letting the strange rhythm of his heart carry him down the hall.

It was always this way when he spoke up for himself. The sensation that he’d felt first when he spoke to his father about Saotome Academy kept him going for two days.

This time, though, it was even more personal. Haruka listened to him, in the face of her own misgivings. After this project, they _would_ talk about their relationship. He _would_ let her know that all of her fears were for nothing, that her place in his life had nothing to do with his father. Never had, and never would.

He felt the snap and spark when he touched the doorknob to his room as he turned it and entered. As usual, the room was lit softly, in keeping with the laid-back personalities of the two other men in the room. Normally, the lighting never bothered him; it was soothing to eye and mind. But today, he wanted to flip all of the lights on and soak in all of the illumination.

Jinguji looked up and acknowledged his entrance by standing and moving toward him.

“What happened?” he asked. Of course, he recognized that something was different about him.

Masato shook his head. “Nothing,” he said at first. “Shining-sama has a new assignment for me. Stage play.”

“And?” That from Kurosaki-san. The older man sat up from his usual lounge on his bed and eyed him sharply.

Masato knew that he couldn’t hide much from these two. They knew him better than they knew anyone else in the agency.

Except, perhaps, Haruka.

“H-Haruka was there. He wants her to compose the finale.”

“And?” Jinguji continued the song and dance with an arched eyebrow and a crooked smile.

Masato sighed. “And… she’s said that we can talk after the performance is over.” He wondered if they understood exactly what that meant.

Of course, they did; these two were experts in the category of feminine relations.

“Well then, that means you don’t have much time to argue your case,” Jinguji said succinctly, standing up and pushing him toward his little desk in their section of the room. “She still thinks this is all about your family?”

Masato nodded as he shuffled along under Jinguji’s power. “Mm. She said as much.”

“Well, it _is_ about his damned family,” Kurosaki said. “His father would shit bricks if he found out that his precious heir was in love with a girl who was not a member of the upper class. Worse, if he found out she was all part of this idol business.”

“That’s true. But you,” Jinguji said, giving Masato a look that cut right through him. “Have a secret weapon up your sleeve, don’t you?”

“Not following, Jinguji,” Kurosaki said.

Masato was following. Between them, the workings of their respective families were an open book. They both understood the underlying motivation that drove the heads of their clans, the Jingujis to fame and notoriety and the Hijirikawas…

Money and power.

To Masaomi Hijirikawa, power over the financial industry was his main goal. Money was a means to that end. Money got him where he was. He committed that hostile takeover of the family business from his own brother with just the right amount of money to purchase the needed shares to give him the all-important majority that gave him power over the whole conglomerate.

It was a lesson Masaomi spent most of his time boring into his son’s sensitive mind. Having money gave your power; power gave you the avenue to ultimate success. Despite what the elder Hijirikawa thought of his flighty son, the lesson struck home. Masato learned the lesson, just not in the way his father thought he should learn. His father wanted him to use the knowledge to keep the stranglehold on the business.

Masato had other ideas.

How Jinguji guessed that was beyond him, but Masato realized that the other heir was in accord and decided it was best not to deny it. He nodded slowly.

“Whatever it is you two babbling about, can you let me in?” Kurosaki rumbled.

Jinguji crossed his arms, almost challenging him. “Why don’t you show him, Masa.”

Soon, the senpai and his two kouhai hovered over the tiny desk, staring at a laptop screen that glowed bright in the half darkness. One kouhai sat at the keyboard, tapping in his user name and password, reluctance in every move he made. The other kouhai understood completely; his friend treasured his privacy above almost everything else.

“You understand why we need this information, don’t you?” Jinguji asked as he peered over Masato’s left shoulder at the screen. “Without it, you won’t be able to convince Haruka of your sincerity.”

Masato ground his teeth, holding the rude words behind his teeth. The high he’d been feeling before was utterly gone. His pulse was now swimming sluggishly. He inwardly cursed the lack. “I don’t think she cares about this kind of thing,” he managed to say.

“Probably not. But it’s a good place to start.”

Masato let out the breath he had been holding back. “I know,” he admitted.

“Well, then stop being a wuss and let us see the damned account,” Kurosaki grumbled.

_Fuck you,_ Masato growled in the back of his mind, then hit the enter key. He sat in offended silence while the two reviewed what was on the screen, and waited for the inevitable questions. This was his personal affair, and it bit deep and hard that he had to reach out to anyone for help. It was the only thing, it seemed, that he inherited from his father other than the hair and eyes. Of course, he knew the necessity of such an action, but that did not make it any easier to withstand.

The silence grew so long, that Masato wondered if the two had actually expired in the middle of tormenting him. Something bitter in him rebelled in that second and sent him an ungracious thought: _Oh, dear. Who is going to sing all of Jinguji’s parts now?_

“Is that number correct?” Kurosaki said, pointing a callused finger at the screen. 

“Yes,” Masato ground out, and then did a double take. He had not looked at his accounts in quite some time. The number staring back at him was staggering. Accurate, but staggering.

It was near perfection, that number. That ingrained training had given him a specific number to keep as his goal. That number on the screen was so close that he could taste it.

“Are you sure?” Jinguji asked his voice a little flat and stunned. Masato took the opportunity to turn his head and look at his roommate. Jinguji’s eyes narrowed and his face was expressionless, but Masato could see the gears turning behind his eyes. “That’s a lot of commas.”

Actually, it was only two commas, but placed among nine numbers what could he say? “Yes.”

“So you haven’t used _any_ of your earnings from STARISH,” Kurosaki stated it as fact and not question.

“I have no need to,” Masato volunteered. He would only give them what they asked for and nothing more. He would reveal particulars of his financial situation on a need-to-know basis. They’d wanted to see his general account and that was what he showed them. “I’ve done some judicious investing, but other than that, this is the entirety of my net worth as a member of the group, so far.”

Jinguji whistled lightly through his teeth. “Your father would spit nails if he could see this.” He chuckled lightly, instinctively relishing the idea of the head of the Hijirikawa family reeling at the financial insight of his oldest son.

“It would surprise him, true,” Masato said. “But I doubt it would sway his mind about the situation. I think it would make him more prone to demand that I quit music.”

“Wait, quit music?” Kurosaki interrupted.

Masato sighed and looked down at the keyboard, taking a moment to calm himself. _I suppose this is a need-to-know situation_ , he thought.

“You might as well talk, Masa,” Jinguji told him. “Everyone is bound to find out sooner or later. And if this campaign to convince the little lamb you mean business succeeds, it will be much sooner.”

He gave Jinguji a long, measuring look, wonder why Jinguji had not told anyone all of Masato’s secrets in the first place. Masato knew without a doubt that the Jinguji clan was completely aware of the minor uproar his attendance at the Academy had caused his family. It was commonplace for high-ranking families to keep track of each other. It would have been a simple thing for him to tell the others that he was in it for only one year. Anyone would have thought Masato’s dedication less than stellar – no matter his outward appearance. It would have completely undermined his place in the group – and his chances with Haruka.

Yes, Jinguji knew all about him, all of his wrinkles and faults and weaknesses. No matter what, Jinguji had the power in this situation. The admission, though completely necessary, was a bitter pill to taste. Yet, there was no guile in Jinguji’s eyes, only a slight bit of sympathy for his discomfort. He wondered what Jinguji would do with what he was about to say.

Masato straightened and rose from the chair. He moved to flip on the desk lamp, which added to the soft light. Standing with his back slightly to the other two, he composed his words carefully.

Giving each one a long look, he started to speak, telling them of the situation between him and his family. 

“The bargain that I struck with my father was this. I was allowed to attend Saotome Academy, but for only _one year_.”

“One year?” Kurosaki exclaimed. “What good was that supposed to do?”

“After that year, after I got this _music thing_ out of my system,” he scowled at the memory of his father’s words, “I was to return home and take my rightful place by his side, to learn about the family business.”

Jinguji nodded; Kurosaki grunted.

“He thought my music was a hobby and not a pursuit worthy of the heir of such a large and influential firm.”

“Sounds like something he would say,” Kurosaki said.

There were many times when Masato wanted to tell Kurosaki how sorry he was about what his father had done to the older man’s family. This was one of those times, but he held his tongue. He went on to tell them the rest. “After our debut and my graduation, my father ordered me home.” He swallowed, willing his emotions to stay where they belonged, under the surface. He let that digest for a moment.

“Obviously, you told him no,” Jinguji said quietly.

“I did.” Masato cleared his throat. “ _This_ is what I wanted to do. There was no sense lying to myself – or him – any longer.”

“Well done. You have grown since joining the group. I’m sure he was overjoyed.”

Kurosaki waved Jinguji to silence and sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

“He was not. Instead of celebrating my strength of purpose, he offered me an ultimatum. Leave STARISH and return to my familial responsibilities, or… never return again.”

That sat and simmered in the air between the three of them. They, the sons of the old, established families, understood the ramifications of that statement. While his father could not legally disown him, a threat to sever family ties was an even more powerful weapon and it was one that rich fathers wielded like an expert sharpshooters.

“Poor Mai,” Jinguji said softly.

Masato should have known that Ren would have gone straight to his weakest point. Masato swallowed around the lump in his throat. “My father knew that I would be… unhappy if I were to lose contact with my sister. My mother, of course, had no intention of throwing me out of her life.”

“What did your mother do?” Kurosaki asked. “What _could_ she do?”

Good question, Masato knew. As a woman in this world of men, a wife of a family head usually had only as much power as her husband gave her.

Interesting that neither of them knew about his mother.

“She released my trust fund to me.”

He could practically hear it when they both stopped breathing.

“How in the hell did she do that?” Jinguji was the one to ask.

“Hmm, well, my mother joined the Hijirikawa family with her own wealth,” Masato explained. “Part of the contract between my parents was that she was responsible for any trust funds that were given to their children.”

“Cheap bastard,” Kurosaki said.

Secretly, Masato agreed. “So, the trust fund was executed by my mother and left in her hands. Apparently, the authority of only _one_ of my parents is required to release our funds. Father set it up that way in case one of my parents was deceased when I came into my majority.” He allowed himself to shrug negligently.

“Stupid of him,” Jinguji murmured, though his small smile said otherwise.

Masato allowed a return smile to cross his lips. From a power standpoint, it was. However, his father had been so angry with him. Masaomi forgot his golden rule and lost his clear thought when he slammed the phone down in Masato’s ear, telling him dramatically never to darken their doorstep again. His mother sprang into action the minute his father shut himself in his office and called him with the news. “Indeed. In any case, my trust fund is in a separate account that I have been using for day-to-day expenses. When that is gone, I will begin to use my earnings.”

He let his two roommates think about that while he contemplated the weave in his trousers. He allowed his mind to wander through some random thoughts; how interesting it was that such a strong, sturdy fabric could be crafted by simply weaving such thin, fragile threads together. It correlated with how he felt about his current relationships, that with STARISH, with his senpai, and with Haruka.

And just like that, he was entertaining a faint hope that his friends would help him weave the delicate threads of his relationship with Haruka back together. Because this lack of a clear path in his head was suffocating him.

“Well, it’s not as if he can legally do anything about what your mother did,” Jinguji suddenly said. “It was in writing – she could do what she wanted with that money. And if he doesn’t want you to take over the business, that’s his loss.” He waved at the laptop. “Obviously, you take after him, if that balance in your bank account is any indication.” The redhead grinned. “I’m afraid to see what’s in your trust fund.”

Kurosaki stretched. “Obviously, you are more than capable of taking care of yourself without your father’s help. You could also take care of a full stable of women with that amount money.” The man folded his arms behind his head. “Why you’re bothering with that little girl is beyond me.”

Jinguji chuckled while Masato made a face was reminiscent of a cat hacking up a fur ball. _A stable full of women! The very idea!_ Yes, he was broadening his horizons but not _that_ much!

Kurosaki shook his head. “Ah well. What do I know about stupid, teenage love? Did you even bother telling Nanami that she had nothing to do with your father’s anger? About any of this?”

Masato hung his head, cursing himself for the fool Kurosaki thought he was. “She knows about the ultimatum to leave STARISH. That is why I am in this situation.”

“Of course,” this from Jinguji. “I can imagine that she waited patiently for you to tell her everything.”

Masato snorted bitterly. “I never got a chance to tell her what my mother did.” He would _not_ admit that he had become a tongue-tied idiot when Haruka, panicked, told him that they should separate to save his position in his family. “Ha-Haruka made up her mind, and would not pursue conversation about it.” He looked up at the two of them. “Now, she only speaks to me when it concerns music. I’ve tried, but…”

“This can’t be something that is easy for you,” Jinguji murmured.

It was gratifying that someone else thought it, said it, and understood it. It helped to clear some of the cobwebs that were clogging his brain.

“You don’t strike me as someone who begs easily,” Kurosaki commented, quiet and serious, “not even if your heart is on the line.”

While his roommates thought about the next move in the campaign to win Haruka back, Masato stood and went to close the laptop.

In honesty, he had not really thought about how much money he had. Now, with what he had, he could make a break from the plans his father had for him. He could take care of himself, Haruka and any family they might have in the –

He froze for a millisecond as every bit of oxygen left him all at once. Then he continued so that his roommates never noticed that he had lost his mind for a brief time. He was sure, however, that they could hear his pulse beating from where they sat.

_Had he just been imagining – and planning – a life with Haruka?_

_Why not?_ The thought had slid into his consciousness so easily, the way lyrics came to him when he was inspired.

Did he really think it was possible? Haruka was a stubborn girl. Despite the fact that she _appeared_ to be lacking in basic confidence (and sometimes wits), when she dug in, she dug in for keeps. That tiny deception, that determination that she hid was one of the things that he… liked about her.

However, with her own familiar situation, the ties that kept families together meant everything to her; the idea that he would lose his family by courting her – a little unknown ingénue – made up her mind and set her decision with what felt like a solid fist to his midsection.

He looked over at Jinguji and Kurosaki, wondering exactly how the information he had just given them would help him win his cause. At this point, they would have to sit on Haruka and paint their information in letters three meters tall for it to get through her head. The minute they mentioned money, she probably would slap them both silly. Not even Jinguji’s charm, nor Kurosaki intimidating persona would save them.

He held back a small smile. No, she would not do that, but when she got through it them, they certainly would have felt as if she had.

He remembered when she left the school and run back home to her grandmother, certain that her career as a composer was done. She was determined to retreat, improve her skills (as if that was even possible), and return better than before. She hadn’t even bothered to tell any of them. Her mind made up, she simply disappeared.

When she fled, all six of them had to drop everything, travel to her home and corner her before she would stop and listen. He remembered how he felt that day, how hard it was to see her distress, watch her turn into a little sobbing mess in the middle of the road.

Masato sighed. It would take a mountain to move Haruka.

_Yes, it would_ , his mind told him, _but they’d done it once before._

He hoped he had the intestinal fortitude to do it again. Regardless of the help he was receiving, it would be solely up to him to convince her that their relationship was worth pursuing, no matter the dangers that lay ahead.

Did he have the all-important power to do so?

He watched his roommates discuss what amounted to an attack plan. It hadn’t even occurred to them that the idea was useless, pointless, distracting and wrong. Then he remembered.

The rules meant nothing to these two rebels. Following the straight and narrow path did not now, nor did it ever, appeal to either of them. Ever. Perhaps the weaving of all of their wills – two thinking outside of normal parameters and him with his discipline – would create a strong enough bond to pull her back to him.

But, Masato was thinking, it would probably lead them into trouble before anything else. Another memory was assailing him right then; it was when he and Jinguji were children, in school, following a slightly older boy into some mischief or another. He couldn’t sit down for a week after that one. Or the next. Or the next.

Well if it took a little trouble to get Haruka to listen, he would do it. No matter what anyone thought of him, how much they all thought he was his father’s son; he wasn’t above a little bit of trouble anymore to get what he wanted.

 


	5. Can't Lie: It's a Sweet Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruka's friends shine a light on solutions to her troubles and take her mind to other things so she can write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter. As usual, if you like, drop a note over at my tumblr crackalchemist.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Blue on Blue**

**Chapter Five: Can't Lie: It's a Sweet Life**

**Rated: T+**

**Soundtrack: Flashlight – Jessie J**

Tomochika picked at her salad and looked across the table at her friend. “Are you sure you can handle this?” she asked quietly. 

Haruka chewed the tiny bit of bread she’d taken and nodded. “Of course.  I have to. What kind of professional would I be if I let myself fall apart at the first personal obstacle?”

“You’ve used that word professional quite a few times now,” Tomo-chan said. “Who are you trying to convince? Me, the others, or yourself?”

Haruka blinked owlishly at her friend. While she admired Tomochika for being so assertive, this was a time Haruka wished she would keep it to herself.

“Because, if it’s me, you don’t need to.” She toyed with the rim of her glass. “I know you are a professional,” she made air quotes to accentuate her point. “If it’s the others, they don’t care. They just want you happy.”  She reached across and laid her hand over her friends. “Especially him.”

Haruka sighed. “I know.” She moved her hand away and waved it. “Of course I know.”

“Can I ask you a blunt question?”

As if she hadn’t already. “Of course you can, Tomo-chan.”

“Are you afraid to hear what he has to say? Because, you know he has the most logical mind in the whole group. He probably has several options and contingencies tucked in his back pocket for this situation, which will keep the two of you out of any trouble. And why would that be so bad?” Tomochika shook her head. “You care for each other, don’t you? Neither of you seem the type to indulge in a temporary fling.” She took a sip of her sparkling water. “You both are too serious for that.”

“That’s the problem, Tomo-chan,” Haruka said, helplessly. Could no one understand? “Eventually, he’ll want to approach his family.” She shrugged. “And we know how that will go. I would _never_ be an acceptable choice for the Hijirikawa heir.”

“That’s a load of crap. This is the 21st century, for goodness sake!”

“I know that, you know that, but they are a very traditional family. I’ve heard how… difficult Mr. Hijirikawa can be. And I _know_ how stubborn his son is.”

Tomochika chuckled. “About a fraction less stubborn than you.”

“Tch.”

“It’s true.”

Haruka looked for a path toward denial of that fact. Out of luck, she said instead, “I do not want to cause Ma-Hijirikawa-san any trouble. Not now, not ever. And to keep going like we were would only stir up a hornet’s nest.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. _C’mon_. He convinced his father to let him go to music school.” Tomo leaned back. “Why don’t you relax and let _him_ fight that battle when it comes to it.”

Haruka sat silent for a while. Then she offered, “I’ve told him that we could talk after the musical.”

Tomochika clapped her hands. “Well, that’s a step in the right direction!” She looked up and Haruka noticed her looking at a point over her left shoulder.

Haruka turned, but all she saw was Ittoki-kun sitting by a tree practicing his guitar. She grinned, suddenly excited to have something to talk about that didn’t include her own personal relationship. “I suppose I should finish reading the script so I can get back to work,” she said, giving her friend a tiny smile. “Thank you for listening to me whine, but now, why don’t _you_ go talk to _him_.”

“Him?” Tomochika blinked innocently, finding something extremely interesting in the bottom of her glass. “Him who?”

Haruka just gave her friend a look. “You know who. I can tell you’re dying to.”

Tomochika whirled. “What?” she exclaimed, then waved her hands. “No, you must be seeing things! I--,”

“Can’t keep your eyes off of Ittoki-kun.” Haruka finished. “And you haven’t been able to since the first day of school.” She stood and picked up her tray. “Don’t know what’s taking you so long to make that move. I wonder who’s afraid _now_.”

“Haruka!”

Haruka laughed as she left the tables to head for her room.

It didn’t take her long to read the pertinent parts of the script. It was the typical historical romance, set in the Edo Period. It would be easy enough to produce something for this section of the play. As she read, she could picture the whole thing. She even heard an ephemeral melody in the back of her mind already. Something that was simple to perform, but sounded very intricate. It would have the flavor of ancient times, and it would be something that would carry the audience away.

She didn’t bother to read the ending; she knew how these plays usually ended. Hero wins girl, everyone is happy, and the world turned peacefully on. A phrase skipped in her mind that, had anyone heard it, would have earned her a mouth full of soap. She was just as romantic as the next girl was, but she didn’t have time to be carried away with all of that.

She was already deep enough in her own troubles.

She sat up on her bed and closed the script, smoothing the cover flat in her lap. _Okay_ , she thought, _time to put this melody down before it was lost_.

She was so busy scribbling shorthand into her notebook that she didn’t see Ren until she almost ran into him. “Oh! I’m sorry, Jinguji-san.”

He gave her was his usual lazy grin, slow and sweet like caramel sugar. “I’m not. It would have been a joy to hold you in my arms again,” he said.

Haruka rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Jinguji-san. You know that doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“More’s the pity,” he said, looking quite heartbroken.

Haruka did not believe that pitiful look on his face for one moment. A light chuckle escaped her lips.

“That’s what I was looking for,” he dropped the pretense and gave her a real smile. “I haven’t heard your laughter in a while. It’s good to hear.”

She quieted and looked up at him. “I haven’t had much to laugh about these days.”

“I understand.” He paused for a second, then took her arm, steering her down the hall toward a rehearsal room. “How would you like an opportunity to forget your worries? If even just for a moment?” he said mysteriously.

Haruka frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have something that I want you to see. Actually, something that you _have_ to see.”

“Uh, actually, Jinguji-san, I have to go and work on this score for the musical--,”

“That Hijirikawa is currently cast in,” Ren waved a hand. “I know the whole sad tale. He tries so hard, but he can’t keep a whole lot from me.”

Haruka stopped. “He… _told_ you?”

“Of course he did,” Ren said. “I mean, he looks like the silent, suffering type, but did you really think he would have no one to confide in?” He shook a finger at her. “Now that’s not fair, lady.” He started moving, to get her back moving, “I know you have your own sympathetic ear in Ittoki’s little red-headed song bird.”

“Ittoki’s… you mean you know about that?” Haruka gaped. Apparently, Ren had found his second calling as the agency gossip.

“There’s a lot I know about,” he said conspiratorially. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to share with you. I want to show you something that’s going to make you want to run for your Oba-chan.” He winked. “I swear it will take your mind of less happy things.”

She almost laughed at that. However, she wasted no time following Ren where he led. If it would distract her that much, she had to see it.

“So,” Ren began, “You really think there’s no way you and Hijirikawa will work out?”

Haruka shook her head. “You should know that better than me. His father would never--,”

“Have you ever thought of letting _him_ handle his father?”

That was the second time someone had asked her that. “What do you mean?”

Ren stopped, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “You’ve taken the whole choice right out of his hands.” He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Do you know what it does to his sense of… correctness that you won’t even let him make an attempt on your behalf?” Ren shuddered. “If it were me, I don’t think I could stand the blow to my virility.”

_Men_. “But, why should we even go to that point if we know it won’t work?”

“So… the fact is that you don’t _trust_ Hijirikawa.”

Haruka almost tripped over her own feet. Now that was a statement that had thrown every lyric and verse of her argument out of alignment. “Wh-what?”

“You don’t trust him to point the way out of this. Do you think him incapable of asserting himself?” Ren shook his head. “Believe me; I may not agree with him on many occasions, but I can tell you that he has no problem with fighting for what he wants when he needs to. And, much to my dismay, he wants to be with you.”

Now the argument was going out of tune, quickly. “I-I don’t… what-what are you talking about? Of c-course I trust--,”

Ren laughed then. “There was a time in middle school that some idiot tried to test him one too many times and wound up on the wrong side of his own teeth.” He sighed and gave her a thoughtful look. “Never mind,” Ren suddenly said. “I’m sure you two can work this out.”

They finally stopped in front of one of the rehearsal rooms. “I will say one last thing and leave the subject alone.” He stopped, placed his hand on the doorknob.

“What?”

“Don’t sell Hijirikawa short, Little Lamb.” Ren murmured. “That’s all.”

Haruka flushed.

Ren put a finger on his lips. “Now,” his whispered, “stay as quiet as you can. I’m going to show you something that will set your pretty hair on end.”

Haruka shook her head a little. There was never a day where one of these men weren’t setting her hair on end. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Ren pushed the door open, gesturing for her to come closer. They peeked through the crack. She stood in the circle of his arms, taking in his cologne and feeling… safe. Not the way she felt _safe_ when she was with… him. Safe as if she was in the arms of her oldest brother.

Haruka blinked. “What am I supposed to see? It’s just Syo and Natsuki.”

“Yes. Natsuki and I just returned from our shoot and he came straight here. Watch.”

She did as he told her. She relaxed against him slightly, not moving, just observing the two blonds seated at one of the couches facing the windows. They were so engrossed in a book in Natsuki’s lap that they would never have noticed the two eavesdroppers. From her viewpoint, she could only see the back of Syo’s head, and could only see the light sparkling off Natsuki’s frames. Occasionally, Syo would point at something on a page, Natsuki would speak, and then they would turn the page.

“Those are the proofs from Nacchan’s last shoot,” Ren whispered.

“Mm.”

“Do you want to know what he was modeling?” Ren’s voice was a mere breath in her ear. “Very tastefully, of course.”

Haruka turned to look at him. “What?”

That wicked glint in Ren’s eye should have warned her.

He leaned close and whispered a few words into her ear. When they settled into her brain, her bottom jaw dropped and a hand slapped against her mouth to stifle the squeak she almost let out.

“Are you serious?” she finally managed. “Say you’re joking, _Jinguji-san_.”

Ren shook his head. “Not joking. I modeled a new line of swimwear. Cecil worked with a summer sports line. Our true Prince was the only one who kept all of his clothes on.” He turned her head back to the two on the couch. “Well. Nacchan was allowed to wear a white button down, but for aesthetic purposes alone.”

“N-Natsuki modeled _underwear_?”

“Very well, in my opinion.” Ren said. “It was a new campaign by the JBC.  Now they’re selling everything from the bottom on up.”

Haruka felt just a bit light-headed as he focused back on the rehearsal room. So far, she’d seen nothing mentionable. However, now that she knew what they were looking at, her brain was giving her all kinds of visions. It also made her wonder.

She knew Natsuki and Syo were close, had been since childhood, but she couldn’t think of a reason Natsuki would show another man pictures of himself modelling _underwear,_ even his best friend. Then again, Natsuki wasn’t really like any other man she knew, even among the wild set she truly knew.

Then they’d stopped on a page, somewhere in the middle of the album. Since she couldn’t really see Syo’s face, she had to rely on Natsuki’s reaction to whatever he’d was doing. As she watched, holding her breath, she saw the color grow slowly on Natsuki’s cheeks, and she saw his larger hand covering Syo’s as he hovered over the picture. She saw Natsuki pull Syo a little closer as he said something in the smaller man’s ear. She saw Syo shut the book and fling it behind him on the couch.

Then she almost swallowed her tongue.

Syo put a hand in the middle of Natsuki’s chest and pushed. The taller man fell back on the couch, pulling Syo with him. What followed was _nothing_ like their usual wrestling matches over the latest piece of Piyo-chan wear that Natsuki wanted to put on Syo. _Nothing._

Haruka moved back, almost knocking Ren over in her rush to shut the door. “T-they,” she started, swallowed, then started again. “They… were… _”_

“Yes, they _were_.”

“But.” Haruka knew her face was burning. 

“What?”

“How long have they been…” How best to describe what she had seen? “ _Doing_ that?”

Ren leaned against the door and tapped his chin. “I think it was some time after our school debut.”

Really, why she was even surprised at anything that went on around this agency? She blinked like an owl at the redhead for a full minute. She shook her head. “I don’t think my Oba-chan could handle such a bit of news. You are a wicked, wicked man, Jinguji Ren.”

“Well, thank you, lady. Now, have I scattered all those clouds away? Is your mind clear enough to write?”

When? When was she ever going to learn to be ready for whatever came out of Jinguji’s mouth? When was she going to recall that Jinguji always had an ulterior motive for the things he did?

He bowed smoothly, and then moved to lead her toward another rehearsal room. “I think you are. My work here is finished.”

He dropped her off at the rehearsal room with a gentle kiss to her hand.  “Remember what I’ve told you about the other thing, Little Lamb. Trust. Hijirikawa has learned at the expert’s knee how to look far, far down the road, way past tomorrow’s darkness. I’ve a good feeling he’s got plans.”

Haruka swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and nodded.

“Set your mind at ease and compose the most beautiful song that you can.”

Haruka watched him leave then sat down in front of the piano. She took a few moments to gather her tattered wits together, shake the sight of Natsuki and Syo… wrestling on the couch out of her mind, and then turned to the comfort of the piano keys.

_Trust_ , he said. It gave her plenty of to think about, but that was something for another time. Right then she had music to finish, a project to complete before she could even entertain the idea of trust.


	6. I Feel the Sky Tumbling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change. Hold on tight, and mind the shrapnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, I'm back for now. Sorry for the delay, but I'm glad that I waited for this new season; more mischief is coming up. Remember, this is an AU, it roughly takes place between Seasons 2 and 3, and MAY morph into a completely AU version of the tale currently being told by our wonderful animators. 
> 
> Some game canon is incorporated into anime canon as it fits. Now that I'm more comfortable with this universe, I can have more fun (evil laugh). Ages have been managed though artistic license; that means simply that some characters are older or younger than they are canonically.
> 
> So grab your popcorn and hold on to your hats.

 

]o[ ]o[ ]o[

**Blue on Blue**

**Chapter Six: I Feel the Sky Tumbling Down**

**Rating: T**

**Soundtrack: I Feel the Earth Move, Martika**

 

Masato almost hated it when Jinguji asked all the right questions. He glared at his roommate from beneath his unbelievable bed-head and grunted, “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Jinguji answered with a smirk. “Why are you letting her get away with so much?”

“I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

The blond sat up in bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Stop playing coy with me.” Jinguji pointed his finger, letting his word hit the bull’s eye. “You’re letting Haruka call _all_ the shots in this situation between you two. That’s not like you at all.”

Masato knew Jinguji was right. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “I don’t really know why,” he started. “I feel as if I make one wrong move—argh!” He scrubbed at his hair, at a loss for words.

“She does have a habit of making a man forget himself,” Ren murmured. 

Masato gave him a narrow eyed glare, not in the mood for any sort of teasing.

“You know what I mean,” Jinguji said, waving his hand. “Maybe she’s wondering if you _want_ to fight for her. Maybe by setting up all these rules and barriers she’s testing you, to see if you _will_ override her objections.”

“Haruka doesn’t play games like that.” Masato was irritated for her sake.

“True, she doesn’t know how, which makes her all the more dangerous.” His roommate swung out of bed and padded toward their bathroom. “She might not even realize she’s testing you.”

Masato watched his Jinguji’s back and wondered if it had been the right thing to confide in him. He looked over to see if the deep sleeper Kurosaki heard any of their conversation.

That heterochromatic gaze pointed right at him. He flushed and tried to gather up the tattered remains of his dignity by fiddling with his mashed up hair.

Kurosaki rolled over on his side and propped his head on his hand. “Quit being a wuss and grow a pair, Hijirikawa. No girl, anywhere, wants a man she can stomp all over. Not even a little kitten like Nanami.”

Masato growled and flopped back onto his futon, staring at the ceiling. Of course, they were right. He was being a weak fool, and he knew enough about Haruka to know that she valued someone who at the least had a pair of testicles to call his own.

He remembered all the way back to the first time he ever had contact with her, when Natsuki tried to crush her under a wave of disgusting cuteness.   
When he swept her out of the way, and held her close for just that short moment, he had seen that she had flushed an attractive rose shade and her breathing had hitched just a bit when he put his hand on her back. Then, he refused to admit that it had affected him, but now, he admitted that he had never been immune to her charms.

He closed his eyes and attempted to clear his mind, the way he always did. It would not do to go to breakfast in his current state, nor with his mind so scattered by wondering exactly how soft Haruka’s skin underneath those pretty dresses she wore was. It took quite a bit of slow, calm breaths and many prayers to the ancestors before he felt much more like himself.

His resolve returned as well. He had to finish the plans he had started before the end of his performance, and before he could talk with Haruka about… things. He was not going to let anything, least of all his father’s… wishes to interfere with his life or their happiness.

]o[

Once a month, it had been ordained by their illustrious leader that all members of both idol groups, and their composer, spend a full day in each other’s company, sans work. They started the ritual soon after their debut, and realized that, for once, Shining Saotome was not taking them on some wild-brained trip of insanity. It actually felt good to unwind, recharge, and cultivate the delicate bonds of friendship they had forged.

The ritual did not stop Haruka from grabbing some score paper and her favorite pencil on her way to the breakfast table. Halfway through the night, she would woke to a fabulous melody playing in her mind and had to get it down on paper. Though she itched to get to a standard piano, she used the one on her new tablet to get her through the basic notes. Now she was three-quarters of the way through it and nothing – not even her stomach – was going to stop it from making its way out of her.

The others were used to Haruka’s bursts of creativity, so they paid no mind her to as she scooted into her chair next to Otoya and scribbled the notes down. She was so engrossed was she that she almost did not notice when a bowl of fruit slid across the table toward her. The notes in her head scattered for a moment as she realized that they were her favorite fruits, and she looked up at Masato, who was slowly retracting his hand. That surprised her a little, not expecting him to make any kind of obvious overtures. She blinked through his slightly intense look, and then gave him a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said. He said nothing, shuttering everything beneath lowered eyelids and turning back to his own breakfast.

Haruka picked up a piece of fruit and popped it into her mouth. Her hum of pleasure was simply a reflex, and she smiled as she went back to her work.

In her small area of the table, she realized that the buzz conversation had suddenly ceased. Looking up again, she took in the wide eye look from Otoya, the open-mouth, glazed glance from Syo, and the small, mischievous smile that turned Ren’s lips. Then she looked across the table and discovered that she had never before seen the shade of red she now saw exploded all over Masato’s face. She blinked again, utterly confused as to what had caused the small disturbance. What was wrong with them and why did they look like the _shinkansen_ had just sped through the dining room.

Otoya cleared his throat. “Is that for the musical?” he asked in a curiously reedy voice.

“Yes,” she answered. “It should be finished very soon.”

The buzz of a cell phone caught her attention yet again. She saw Masato pull his phone from his shirt pocket. She could not really help but watch as she saw thunderclouds grow in his eyes. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly to the table at large, stood and moved toward the door.

Every person at the table leaned slightly toward the door. It was rare that Masato let a phone call interrupt him like that. He was one of those who firmly believed that a phone had its place, it was not at the meal table, and voice mail was there for a reason.

Those closest to the door could hear more than those on the other side of the table could. That meant that the resident busybodies – Syo and Reiji – had allowed their ears to grow to twice their size. Syo put a quieting finger on his lips. Everyone, including Haruka, hushed, barely breathing. She could hear his deep voice faintly through the open door.

Then suddenly: “No!”

The sound stopped everyone mid motion. Ren gave up the pretense and moved toward the door. The other stood to follow, but Ren waved them back down.

“I will not!” Masato’s agitated voice carried clearly this time. “I am not having this conversation with you again. In fact, sir, this conversation is at an end. Good bye.”

Ren scrambled back to his seat before Masato could appear again. Everyone did his or her best to look innocent, but Haruka could not hold back.

“Is everything alright, Hijirikawa-san?”

He started and looked at her, still perturbed. Haruka looked into his stormy eyes, noticing that they had darkened to an almost midnight blue. A shudder passed through her and she quickly prayed for the safety of the person on the other end of the phone. “Ah. Well.” He looked at the others. “Not at this moment, but it will be better soon.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Syo asked cautiously.

Masato looked at his bandmate. “No. This is something I have to handle on my own.” His chair scraped back. “And, since I don’t believe I am good company right now, I will go get to it. Excuse me.” He left without another word.

No one knew what to say. Haruka sat back for a moment, considering her options at this point. Her instincts were telling her to go find out what was wrong, but her brain was reminding her that she had no right to do that at that time.

“What should we do?” Cecil asked the room at large.

Haruka looked up to find Ren giving her a speculative glance. Then his chair went back and he excused himself as well. “I have a feeling Hijirikawa’s going to need a hand, whether he knows it or not.”

Syo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I wish all of this drama would just go the hell away!” he grumbled, as usual saying the one thing that was at the top of every mind at the table.

“You’re not alone,” Haruka whispered. She looked down at the score, sighed and made herself return to transcribing the notes on the page. The quicker she finished, the quicker they could move on.

]o[

Jinguji looked at the documents Masato handed him in shock. “Are you serious?”

Masato looked up from his kneeling position at his friend. He knew Jinguji would be surprised. What he was planning to do was not the normal course of action for any child of a traditional family. He nodded. “I am half-way through the procedure.”

Jinguji whistled and handed the paper back to his roommate. “You’re not playing around, are you? You are determined to get the lady back.”

Masato shook his head, even as he felt his face grow warm. “This has nothing to do with her. It has everything to do with STARISH.”

“So, who was on the phone?”

Masato busied his hands with preparing to affix his seal on the legal document. “My father,” he answered, pressing the small round stamp into the appropriate circle on the bottom of the paper. “He wanted to give me another chance to re-think my decision.”

“Really?” Jinguji laughed. “Your father really doesn’t know you that well, does he?”

“And that is the root of the entire problem,” Masato murmured.

“Are you going to tell Haruka?”

Masato gave him a long look. “When it’s official.”

There was a knock on the door. Masato shoved the documents back into the envelope while his roommate opened the door.

“Lady!” Ren said, just loud enough for Masato to hear. Masato’s head flung up, turning toward the door and he watched Haruka step into the room. He stood, trying not to look like he was scrambling and smoothed his hands down the thighs of his trousers.

“I… I just wanted to give you the score, Hijirikawa-san,” she said quietly, handing him a sheaf of papers. He accepted them with calm and peaceful movements, shoving everything else down into his gut and willing his heart to stop hammering in his chest.

He felt it when their fingers brushed one another and wondered exactly how many times they’d done that throughout the entirety of their relationship. It was a perfectly choreographed move, subtle, and discreet. Something they had used as a signal to let the other know that they were in each other’s thoughts. He missed it.

A light flush of color touched Masato’s cheeks. “Thank you, Nanami,” he murmured, turning away to shield his expression.

“I look forward to hearing the completed song,” she said.

“You will be the first to hear it.”

Haruka gave a small smile and turned toward the door.

“Nanami!”

Both Haruka and Ren turned at the urgency in the tone. “Yes?” she asked.

“You will be at the performance, right?”

Relief washed over her features and she smiled. “Of course I will.”

Masato gave a small half-bow. “Thank you.” He ended the conversation by turning to the music score and carefully going over it.

As if feeling his roommate’s perplexed stare, Masato looked up and turned toward him. “What?”

Jinguji chuckled. “Nothing, Hijirikawa. Nothing at all.”

 

]o[

 

_The time I spend with you is both delightful and painful. I must do something to stem these overflowing emotions._

Masato remembered the last time he had that thought. It was harder this time than the last. He closed the door to the rehearsal room and took a deep breath. This was his last dress rehearsal before the premier performance. It was hard for him not to show her the lyrics, but it had to be a surprise.

As soon as he saw what she’d written for him, he immediately knew what lyrics he would use. They were still in his head, but he’d let them flow out of him onto the paper in front of him. It had been cathartic. The words had been swimming around in his mind for weeks, and every time he looked at Haruka, they powered to the front of his brain and lightly scattered his thoughts, making it so he had to pull himself together. It was stressful, but he couldn’t write the words down until he had a melody to go with it. It was inconvenient and annoying at times but it was always that way for him.

He hoped she would like the finished product. He hoped she would understand.

]o[

 

“Have we decided who is going to opening night?” Syo asked the group at large. “Who has prior commitments?”

“I know I’ll be going,” Ren said.

“My dance card is sadly empty, so I will be there,” Reiji commented, looking at his students. “I think my kouhai will be going with me as well, neh?”

“Of course,” Tokiya murmured.

“Not something I would miss for the world,” Cecil said.

“I have a shoot that day and I don’t think I’ll be back in time,” Natsuki said.

“Is that tomorrow?” Syo asked. “Damn. I wanted to go.”

“Then go. Support Masayan,” Natsuki told him with a smile. “He’ll need it.”

Reiji looked around. “Where is he?”

Ren smirked. “He is in our rooms, doing his preparing thing.”

“Meditating.” Tokiya said. “Indoors?”

“Too cold for a waterfall,” Ren said.

Tokiya chuckled.

The door opened, and Haruka leaned in. “Hello,” she said, smiling.

“Nanami!” Syo called. “We were deciding who was going to the opening tomorrow.”

“Oh, good!” Haruka said. She moved into room and sat on the couch beside Ren. “I was just going to ask if anyone has seen Tomo-chan. We’re going together.”

Natsuki shook his head. “Last I heard she had errands to run. Ittoki was going to help her.”

Haruka bit back a grin and gave Natsuki a wide-eyed look. “She’s with _Ittoki-kun_? _Running errands she said_?”

Ren narrowed his eyes at the tiny glint of mischief in her eyes. “Sounds like you don’t believe that, Lady.”

Haruka blinked and shook her head. She rearranged her features into something more normal and folded her hands in her lap. “As it happens I have a few errands to run in the city as well.” She stood, smoothing her skirts. “I should get to them so that I won’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

“The cars will be out front at 7:00pm tomorrow night,” Reiji said. “Don’t be late.”

“Even if Shining-sama hadn’t decreed that I attend,” Haruka smiled softly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Ren looked after her for a moment then sighed, leaning back on the couch and folding his arms behind his head. “Tomorrow is going to be an interesting evening.”

]o[

 

Haruka moved down the street, looking at her list and checking the street signs so that she didn’t get lost. She knew they expected her to and, for once, she was going to prove them wrong. It wasn’t that she was directionally challenged, as the others though; it was just that the crowds made her sweat, and made her breathing all wrong, and she got confused, and before she knew it... Not helping was the fact that every street looked alike.

The music store was first; it was a block away, according to the address she had. It was score paper first, then some shampoo and conditioner, and lastly a new outfit for tomorrow night. For once, nothing in her closet satisfied her for this particular occasion. She hadn’t treated herself for a while, so she figured she deserved it. She just wished Tomochika were there with her to help her pick something out that wouldn’t make her look like a washed out dishrag.

The first two errands were easy, and she had no problem finding the dress shop. However, before she even got to the door, she noticed another shop right in the next building. Peeking in the window, she saw a beautiful, modern kimono shop. Suddenly she was inspired. She pushed open the door and took a step inside.

Immediately she noticed that instead of the soft, traditional music she expected they were pumping high-energy beats out of the speakers. The atmosphere was bright and cheerful with a touch of fashion sparkle. After the shop assistant greeted her, she made her way through the small aisles, dazzled by the colorful kimono that fell to her touch. The more she looked, the better she felt about ditching the idea of a gown for one of these incredible beauties. It was time she got it through her head that she _should_ dress to impress. As a member of the Saotome Agency, she had to present a certain appearance at special occasions. In addition, she was going to be with most of the members of STARISH, and, as one of the star composers, she would be the center of attention anyway. She might as well enjoy it while she had the nerve. All that was missing was Tomo-chan; but she knew that if her friend was in Ittoki-kun’s company, she was involved in something much more interesting.

She giggled at the racy thought, then stopped, stunned at the gorgeous pastel floral fall of fabric in front of her. The shop assistant noticed her staring and offered to help her choose the perfect accoutrements for the kimono.

She went to try it on and was amazed; it was as if it was one of a kind, for her alone. It didn’t take her long to complete the ensemble then, opting for soft, complimentary colors, with some bold splashes as accents. She paid for it and gave her the address for delivery by noon the next day. The assistant recognized the address and smiled brightly, assuring her that there would be no problem with her request.

Her mind was happily buzzing as she left the shop. It was going to be a bold move, wearing the kimono, simply because it was something she normally would never, but she could just picture the faces of her escorts when they finally saw her.

Her stomach grumbled lightly, reminding her that it was time to eat. As she considered her options, a familiar form caught her eye. She focused on it, then wished she hadn’t.

It was the lead member of HEAVENS, leading two others toward a shop on the same street. She turned and ducked into another shop opening, wanting above anything else to avoid Ootori and his cronies. On top of everything else on her plate, an encounter with any of the rival group was that last thing she needed for her peace of mind. They were rude, crude and uncalled for and the group’s leader was the worst of the trio.

However, who were the others with him? The three were wearing similar sports jackets, she noted as she peeked out of the doorway, dark blue and white. With Eiichi Ootori was another slight young man, his face framed with soft brown hair and dominated by soft eyes. It was too far away to figure out their color, though couldn’t miss the thick lashes that framed them.

The other was a veritable brick wall. None of STARISH or Quartet Night was as powerfully built as this one; tall, muscular, with a bright thatch of blond hair and piercing eyes. He walked with unmistakable confidence, like Ootori, but not with the same slick smoothness that sent an uncomfortable chill down Haruka’s spine.

Haruka moved back into the doorway just as the slight one looked up and down the street. It would _not_ be smart for them to see her. She was not in the mood to dance around anything Ootori would have to say, and she had no wish to meet anyone acquainted with him.

She gave them a few more moments, and then peeked. They were gone. Sighing, she moved back toward the street and back on course, both physically and in her thoughts.

She so wanted Tomo to wear a kimono as well; they would look fantastic together. And Ittoki-kun’s eyes would drop right out of his head. Perhaps if she could get in touch with her friend, they could find something later that evening. She scrabbled in her purse looking for her phone. Dialing her friend’s number, she stepped off the curb as soon as the traffic light turned blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and commentary are very welcome! If you like, come over and visit me at my tumblr the-flying-skittles-brothers.tumblr.com.


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